


Kitchen Sink

by planetary_no



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: TW: implied suicide attempt, Therapy, existential crisis basically, listen to kitchen sink when you read this seriously, sad!tyler, tw: schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetary_no/pseuds/planetary_no
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler is in the therapist's office and no one has a good time</p>
<p>Triggers in tags</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Sink

**Author's Note:**

> yo but go listen to kitchen sink before/after/during reading this bc that's what I originally based it off of like seriously that song will f**k you up

“What’s your name?”

“Tyler,” the boy said. His hands fidgeted, tugging on his sleeves and hair. They brushed over his pants and picked at his fingers; anything they could do to stay occupied. 

“Well, Tyler, do you know why you’re here?” the therapist asked. In his head, he added, ‘again’. He barely glanced at the twitching boy.

“Nobody thinks what I think.”

The man looked over at this. “What do you mean?”

“Nobody dreams when they blink, in that split second of darkness. They don’t think things on the brink of blasphemy. They don’t think that things are chasing them in that darkness in search of vengeance for their catastrophic decisions,” he said, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair with astonishing speed. It was almost as if he was playing an invisible piano, and only he could hear the symphony. For a split second, the boy smiled to himself. His face was dark. “I’m a kitchen sink.”

“I don’t know what that means, Tyler…” The man’s voice had a tinge of uncertainty now.

“You don’t know what that means because a kitchen sink to you is not a kitchen sink to me,” Tyler replied.

The man fell silent for a moment, thinking to himself. What he had labeled as nonsense from a schizophrenic teenager held more logic than he could comprehend.

Tyler, however, understood.

Unfortunately, the man changed the subject.

“Are you searching for something? A purpose? Maybe something that makes you feel good?...alive?”

Tyler just glanced at the man. He stayed silent.

“You should try writing it out, or telling someone,” he suggested. “Or you could try and draw it, or even paint of you prefer.”

“It’s all worthless, wordless, nonsense,” the boy replied, instantly shooting the idea down.

The man wasn’t fazed. “But if you try, you might find something start to appear. No one else is where you are; it’s only you, Tyler. Only you can deal with your problems, your demons. Maybe if you found something – a purpose – you’d have something to work towards. That could be the beginning.”

Tyler took a few moments to reply. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “Nobody thinks what you think. Empathy is a joke, yet they pretend to know what you’re going through. They don’t know you.”

The man quickly jotted down the boy’s words. This was the most he had spoken in a session, ever.

Tyler’s eyes seemed to un-focus as he continued. “Things seem so fast while they’re happening, yet they’re so calm. In the moments afterwards, that’s when they come back into focus. I know I could’ve been a better person, but I didn’t realize what I had done until it was too late. Besides, without the mistakes, I wouldn’t be me, would I?”

“But you’d be happy,” the man added. “When you say ‘mistakes’,” he paused, glancing at his notes, “are you referring to the events that led to your hospitaliza-”

Tyler stood up abruptly. The chair he had been using as a makeshift piano was knocked over, and the cup of water on the ground beside him was spilled and shattered.

“Go away,” he snapped. “Stop talking.” Tyler clamped his hands over his ears. “Leave me alone.”

He ran from the room before the man could say anything else.

The slammed door echoed loudly in the quiet hallway, but it was nothing compared to the shouting inside Tyler’s mind.

His hands clamped tighter over his ears in a feeble attempt to drown out the voices, but it was no use.

Tyler stumbled his way to a wall and slid to the ground, collapsing in on himself as his mind suffocated his body.

“Don’t leave me alone,” he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> while you're here, you should totally go check out my other two Joshler fics. You may have heard of them; Addict with a Pen (complete) and HashtagSolo (WIP)
> 
> thnks fr th kds nd cmmnts


End file.
